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by bleeeeeeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleeeeeeep/pseuds/bleeeeeeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There once was a small boy sitting in a cupboard under the stairs who was waiting for something to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
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> Sirius escapes from Azkaban earlier than canon or proves his innocence in PoA and raises Harry!

**July 28th 1985 9AM**

 

"Sirius Black, you have been declared not guilty on all charges by the Wizengamot." 

"Huh?" He could hardly believe his ears.  "Pardon?" 

"Go home, Mr. Black.  Preferably before we change our minds." 

He could not have scrambled out of that courtroom faster. 

 

An hour later...

 

"Honey, I'm hooooome!" Sirius shouted as he and his straggly black mane burst into the door of 12 Grimmauld Place.  He soon found himself tackled to the ground by an overjoyed Remus.

"It took you bloody well long enough!" Moony kissed his face between syllables.

"I only got out an hour ago!" he tried to hold Remus' face so he could actually talk, but he couldn't really get a grip.  "Could we possibly resume after I've had a shower?"

"Fine."  Sirius could feel the pout against his neck.

Fifteen minutes under hot water for the first time in  _years_ later... a flea-free Padfoot strolled into the living room in a threadbare t-shirt and old pyjama bottoms.  There was no tackling upon his reappearance.  Instead, there were things to talk about.  And with some things, there was no easy way to go about saying them.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," he mumbles with his head lowered.  Sirius had apologized in a letter, but he had to say it again.

"You said that.  And I forgave you," Remus offers a smile.  "We'll catch Pettigrew together.  Later.  There's something you have to do first."

Sirius tries to smile back, but the mention of a task to complete just makes his face sink.  He knows what it is.  "Oh!  Harry!"  The thought of his godson being stuck with that awful sister Lily Evans had made him start pacing back and forth.  "Where is he?  Is he okay?  Is he being fed properly?"

Remus tugs on his shirt.  "Calm down.  Dumbledore gave me the address.  Go eat something and get dressed.  Then, you can go."

Neither of them were aware of it at the moment, but the answer to all of the questions Sirius asked was 'No.'

 

 

You see, in that dreadful house in Little Whinging, a raven-haired four (nearly five) year old with the biggest green eyes ever was hiding, rather - locked in a cupboard under the stairs wondering if this is what all families were like.

He cuddled a little closer with his security blanket as sawdust his cousin, Dudley, decided to create rained down from the sorry excuse for a ceiling.

"I'm not bad!" he wanted to cry out.  "I swear!  I'll learn how to pour orange juice properly tomorrow!"  Alas, his claims would only be denied.  At least they hadn't denied him food today.  Or spanked him.  Or let Dudley box his ears for 'practice.'  

_It's not s'posed to be like this, is it?_  Before he could answer his own rhetorical question, the tears started to rain down his cheeks.  By now, he'd learned to muffle the sniffling with his blanket.  At least he still had that.

Much to his surprise, before the real crying could start, he heard the front door burst open and a loud "WHERE IS HE?"

 

 

Five bloody years was long enough to wait for his nephew.  And Sirius, Sirius had never been one for patience.

Nobody came to greet him at the (now broken) door, so he shouted again.  "Where is he?  Where's my godson?  Harry!  Harry, where are you?!"

Just then, an enormous red-faced man stormed in and tried to jab him with an awfully stubby finger.  His first thought was to avoid getting his chest bruised.  His second was simply ' _That poor woman.'_ "Just who the bloody hell do you think you are, barging in like this?" he demanded. _  
_

"Harry Potter's godfather," Sirius replied.  "And who are you to deny him from me?"

 

 

_Godfather?_  Harry didn't know he had a godfather.  He desperately wanted to kick the door open, but he didn't want to get in trouble, so he shouted, "I'm in here!" as loudly as he could.  "I don't know you, but I'm in here!"

"You bastards!" he heard the stranger say.  "You kept him locked in a bloody cupboard?"  The next thing the excited little boy's ears heard was a gigantic thud.

 

 

The thought that James and Lily's son was constantly locked in a tiny cupboard caused anger to surge through his veins.  Merlin, how could anybody do that to a child?

Five years in prison only gave Sirius a chance to practice his right hook.  And, specifically to toot his own horn, it was bloody perfect.  Since magic wasn't allowed and he did not fancy going back, now was the best time to throw a punch.

The house shook from the fall.

And a horribly large boy that most certainly could not be his godson came running down the stairs, nearly crashing into Sirius when he landed.  "What did you do to my daddy?" he screamed.

He would never really, but Sirius put on his best deranged psycho face and said, "The same thing I'm going to do to you if you don't get out of my face."

Luckily, he ran away crying.

At last.  Well, almost.  High heeled shoes always made too much noise.  Sirius whipped around and pointed his wand in her face.  It wasn't like she'd know about the Ministry's laws.  "Unless you put that pan down and help me get Harry out, I'm going to turn you into a petunia and stomp on it."

The sound of the clatter was music to his ears.  Bad music, but music nonetheless.

 

 

Harry was too overwhelmed to listen carefully to what the stranger was saying, but his mouth fell open when he heard the lock click.  He winced a little at the light that came into his so-called 'room.'  The stranger held out his hand, waiting for Harry's.  He didn't bother to look up.  In a shy voice, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"Home."

Home.  That sounded nice.

A small hand fell into one with bruised knuckles and the question Harry was thinking about earlier no longer mattered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this. thank you for reading!


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